


Home Is Where the Heart Is

by CamCam



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Sad, This is not a 'everybody live AU'
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-12
Updated: 2015-10-12
Packaged: 2018-04-26 03:30:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4988485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CamCam/pseuds/CamCam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He didn’t remember why his mother said that, what they were talking about or when. The sentence stuck with him anyway.</p><p>“Home is where your heart is.”</p><p>He didn’t really understood back then. Home was the hole they lived in, nothing more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home Is Where the Heart Is

**Author's Note:**

> This is what happen when I can't sleep and think of Bilbo.

He didn’t remember why his mother said that, what they were talking about or when. The sentence stuck with him anyway.

“Home is where your heart is.”

He didn’t really understood back then. Home was the hole they lived in, nothing more.

When he inherited Bag-Ends, nothing really changed. He had lived in this hole how hole live and it would do it until he dies. So home, hole, house, all the same.  
He loved the Shire. He could spend hours walking through the fields and hills, watching the plants growing, the flowers blossoming, the trees turning from green to red then falling, before growing up again.  
Even if he wasn’t really fond of rivers, not knowing how to swim, he was never tired of the reflects on the water and the whispers of the streams. He liked watching the fish catching flies when he walked over the bridge.  
When he was walking in the forest, he was always hoping being able to meet some elves (he only saw some once, and from some distance. It only reinforced his awe of them).  
The Shire was enough to fulfill his daily escapades (even if sometimes, he wondered how was the world beyond.) He was born here, it was his land, his people, his life. He didn’t know better than that and was ok with it.  
So when a little Sam asked him what his home was, he answered The Shire without thinking

 

(it was true after all - until one day, a company of Dwarfs decided to hold a fest in his living-room and he had to rethink his opinion on blue eyes.)

 

He loved elves stories, always had. Rivendell was like walking awake in a dream. Days could pass with him doing nothing but listening to their songs, stories and others melodies ; he didn’t think he could ever grow tired of it. Maybe that was what home was supposed to be - a place where you just had to be, needing nothing else to be content. And the elves, oh how wonderful they were. It was better than he could have imagined. How could he ever leave this place ?

 

(he didn’t hesitate to. They still needed a burglar and he wanted to know what a King’s smile looked like.)

 

During his journey, he understood the difference between house and foyer. He lost count of how many times he thought about his hole, his bed and pillow, his tea near his armchair and his books all around ; of his tidy garden and the warm place in front of the fireplace. At some moments, he would have given everything to go back there, in peace, comfort and safety. At home.

 

(when he started thinking of it with a pair of boots in the hall, another coat next to his, dark hairs on the pillow and a deep voice calling him out for dinner, he wondered why this version of Bag-Ends seemed warmer and happier.)

 

After everything was over, home was the only place he wanted to be. It was naturally then to head back in the Shire. He thought about staying in Rivendell but it didn’t felt the same way now, probably because he had got used at associating home with Bag-Ends.  
Yet when he finally passed the border, it was not as he remembered. The colors were less vibrant, the road less exiting and everything seemed more little.  
His hole was a mess. Furniture were scattered everywhere, half of it was missing, there was no food left and he couldn’t imagine his mother’s reaction to the amount of dirt. It was not the little cozy home he left and thought about all this time ; so he did the only thing he could and started to put everything back in place. But even when it was finally all good, he could only felt as if something was missing.

 

(he sometimes looked at his coat hanging alone and would start crying again.)

 

Then one day, he finally understood. He wasn’t lying when he said home was the Shire or Bag-End - or even Rivendell. It has been true back then.

“Home is where your heart is.”

He knew now, that his home was lying under the Lonely Mountain.

 

(home wasn’t a place. It was a person, and it was gone.)


End file.
